A Nice Thing To Do
by LittleRedOne
Summary: Zacharias was always trying to be nice. Ginny just never thought he was - until now. Ginny/Zacharias; odd pairing, but I like it.


**A/N:** I had some fun writing this. Maybe you'll have fun reading it? I know it's not a popular pairing by any means, but I've got a new thing for Zacharias Smith right now and Ginny is just my favorite. It's written in Ginny's point of view.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the general idea.

* * *

"I can't believe him! He is utterly ridiculous! If he makes one more comment, _just one more_, to me he'll be sorry he ever learned how to talk!" I threaten while storming across the vast space in the Entrance Hall to get to dinner, an extremely uncomfortable Neville in tow.

"Did you expect anything less from him Gin?" Neville asks. "He's a great prat."

"I know he's a great prat! He just needs to learn to keep his big mouth shut around me," I say harshly, causing Neville to wince a bit. I'm not one to mess with when I'm in a mood like this.

We had been in the Library studying after classes when Zacharias _bloody_ Smith felt he just had to drop by our table. He pulled out a chair and made himself right at home, smirking at the deadly glare I was sending him.

_"May we help you Smith?" I ask through gritted teeth. Just his presence was enough to rile me up these days; nothing nice ever came from him._

_"I just thought I'd see how you were on this lovely Friday evening," he responds with an infuriating smile._

_"I had been doing just fine until certain people came along," I answer with a pointed look at him, which he promptly ignores._

_"If Longbottom's bothering you so much why not ask him to leave?" he smirks, causing Neville to redden a bit, though out of anger or embarrassment I'm not certain._

_"If he were bothering me," I say tightly, "I would have asked him to leave, but he's not."_

_"I don't see the problem here then."_

_"Let me get you a mirror and maybe then you can see the problem," I say with a false sweetness._

_"Oh. Is it a two way mirror then?" he asks mocking confusion, the bloody git._

_"Wouldn't you like to think so?"_

_"You know _Ginny_," he says emphasizing the rare use of my first name. "I don't see what you're problem with me is. I mean, really, I know you find me devastatingly handsome and undeniably charming, but there's no need to get angry thinking you can't have me."_

_"You've got to be kidding me. Your ego amazes me," I say harshly, packing my bag and storming away from the table and out the door._

_"Glad to know I amaze you!" he hollers after my retreating back._

When we reach the doors to the Great Hall I angrily throw them open, earning a few wary looks from the nearest students. This doesn't bother me though. I'm in a mood and if they have a problem with that they can just shove it. I stalk across the hall towards the Gryffindor table and sit on the end, Neville dropping into a seat beside me.

"What's up with you Gin?" Dean asks cautiously.

"Smith," is my angry reply, knowing I'll need to say no more.

"What this time?" Colin sighs, sending us a sympathetic look across the table.

"Just bothering us in the library," Neville responds before I have a chance to, knowing I'll go off on a long lecture of all the infuriating things about one Zacharias Smith.

I really can't stand the git. He's got a stupid, haughty attitude like he's so much better than the rest of us. His eyes and smirk are always mocking like he knows how much his presence bothers me and that's the only reason he comes around. He's got this ridiculous blonde hair and sharp facial features, which seem to give him the impression that he's 'dreamy'. He makes snide remarks about everyone; you'd think it would kill him to be _nice_. That smile he seems to think is so charming just makes my blood boil. Yes, I really can't stand the git.

Who cares if he is, to use his words, devastatingly handsome? He is in no way, shape or form undeniably charming – unless he considers charm making me want to hex him every five minutes or less. If that's the case he is spot on with his self assessment. He always comes up to me thinking he's the best and being rude to or insulting my friends. Why would he think that is charming?

"Hello Ginny," I hear that obnoxious voice from behind me. Great, doesn't it figure that since the Hufflepuff table is closest to Gryffindor he'd sit right behind me? I wonder if he simply wants to test how long it will take before I pull my wand on him. Maybe I should to just get rid of him. Of course, I have before and it apparently hasn't helped much.

"Turn around Smith," I say, again through gritted teeth with out turning to face him.

"Don't be like that Ginny," he says. Knowing his tone I'm sure he's probably wearing a pout to match. I turn and sure enough, there's the mocking pout. That makes me even angrier for reasons I can't even begin to explain.

"Don't call me Ginny!" I snap. "I'm not your friend! I don't want to be your friend! And I certainly don't even want to talk to you!"

"Pardon me," he says in a superior tone, "I was under the impression it was good manners to call a person by their name." After a moment of thought he shrugs and adds on, "I suppose I could stick with Miss Weasley though."

"Or you could call me nothing!" I say loudly.

"Smith, why don't you just turn back to your own table," Dean interjects.

"I believe I was talking to Miss Weasley, Thomas, not you."

"And I'm talking to you now. Turn around." Dean commands.

"Oh yes, because ordering me to do something makes me want to do it all the more," he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes in case his tone didn't convey his feeling properly. I take several deep, calming breaths before speaking again.

"Smith, can you please turn around and let me finish my meal in peace?" I ask tensely.

"Of course, Miss Weasley," he says with a wide, dramatic smile. "Since you asked so nicely it'd be my pleasure." With that he turns back around, a smirk pulling at his lips. If all I had to do was ask nicely to get rid of him my life could have been so much easier over the past three months. Of course, he does work me up so easily it's hard to speak politely to him.

The rest of dinner goes by smoothly. Smith keeps to his table and my friends manage to put me in a cheery mood again with practiced ease. With a better out look for the night, I excuse myself early from the table, figuring now that spring is here I'd get some flying in before dark – for fun instead of practice. I rush to the common room and change out of my uniform before grabbing my broom and heading out to the pitch.

I love to fly. It's so relaxing to me; the wind hitting my face and blowing through my hair, being so high off the ground and supported only by a thin piece of wood. There is such a thrill to flying that you can't possibly explain to anyone else. I just love it. After doing many laps, dives, loops and various other stunts I've been trying to learn, I decide to take a break. I turn to the nearest stands to go sit down, anger rising in me immediately upon spotting Smith again.

"What are you doing out here?" I holler over at him, urging my broom in his direction.

"Enjoying the show," he hollers back.

I reach the stands and hop off my broom, my free hand instantly going to my hips. "There is no show out here."

"I'd beg to differ. Your flying is exceptionally fun to watch," he grins.

"Just go away Smith," I sigh, frustrated. "Why do you always have to bother me?"

"Why do you always insist that I'm bothering you?" he counters.

"Because you are," I shout.

"I'm simply sitting here," he says calmly. "I've been here for half an hour and you had no problem with it until you spotted me. You chose to come over to me this time."

"Of course I came over! You've been sitting here watching me!"

"And what did I do to bother you so far?" he raises a challenging eyebrow.

"You're here! That's enough to bother me!"

"Ginny-"

"Don't call me that!" I say sharply.

"Fine," he grits out, "_Miss Weasley_, I've done nothing to bother you. I'm simply sitting here, enjoying the spring weather like you are."

"And that bothers me! You're always coming around being rude and insulting," I scowl.

"I've not once in this conversation said anything rude. And I certainly haven't insulted you. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe I even made a compliment on your flying just moments ago," he says back, finally starting to get loud with me.

"Please go away Smith," I try, remembering what he said at dinner.

"That won't work right now Miss Weasley. I'd like to know when I've been rude to you, insulted you or did anything to you."

"For the past _three_ _months_! You're always coming up to me and bothering me. You're always there when I turn around. It _bothers_ me."

"I'm not coming up to bother you – you just take it that way. I'm simply trying to start a simple conversation. I didn't know that was such a bloody crime."

"It is when I've made it clear I don't want to be in a conversation with you."

"Fine," he huffs. "I'm so terribly sorry for trying to be nice to you. I'll make sure not to do it again with out your permission!" he hollers, storming away from me.

My eyes following him until he's across the pitch and out of sight before I sigh in relief. Finally! Maybe now I can enjoy the rest of the school year. He better hold to what he said. I certainly won't be giving him permission to "be nice" to me.

* * *

I'm running down the stairs, desperate to make it out to Herbology on time. I've been late too many times and can't afford another detention. As luck would have it though, when I reach the Entrance Hall I run smack into someone, sending me to the floor, books scattered all around. I look up, frustrated, and find the eyes of Zacharias Smith. Great, that's just what I wanted! He's been more than nasty to me over the last two weeks. I loathe to admit it, but he makes me miss the way he was before. I think I'd rather have run into a Slytherin, even Malfoy himself, than Smith right now.

"Watch where you're going next time, Weasley," he snaps out. He turns to leave, not even offering to help me gather my things or help me up.

"Wait!" I call after him, not entirely sure why. He stops and turns back around, still not making a move to help me.

"Yes?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"What is your _problem_?"

"My problem is that you just ran into me, making me late for Herbology. I thought that'd be obvious."

"No, I mean you just knocked me over and aren't even going to offer to help me!"

"First, you ran into me when you came barreling down the stairs with out looking, if you hadn't you wouldn't be down on the floor right now. Second, I don't exactly have permission to be nice to you," he sneers.

"Oh come off it," I roll my eyes, "that was two weeks ago. Besides, what happened to all the manners and politeness crap you always spew out at me?"

"I don't get you Weasley," he says after a few minutes of silent staring. "You wanted me to stop being nice to you, so I did. Now you want me to be nice to you again?"

"I just want you to offer to help me with my things. It's not like I'm asking for a lot here."

He's silent for another moment. I fleetingly realize I'm sure to get detention now but I can't seem to care – this needs to be settled. He slowly sticks his hand out to me. When I grab hold of it he easily lifts me off the floor.

"Thank you" I smile lightly. "Was that so hard?"

He doesn't answer. He simply sets his bag down and kneels to pick up the few things that fell out of my bag on impact with the floor. They're placed into my bag with slow, deliberate movements and I don't even help. I just stand and watch, curious as to where this will lead. Once everything is off the floor he stands and looks at me. He picks up his own bag and, after giving me another calculating look, grabs mine as well. He gestures to the door and we head to Herbology together.

What in the name of Merlin just happened? One minute we were arguing and he was being a cruel git. The next he's carrying my bag and I'm walking to class with him? I must have missed something I'm sure. Even before when he was "nice" to me he was never like this. This is just odd. The whole way to the green house I cast furtive glances at him. I want to know what he's up too.

"Mr. Smith! Miss Weasley!" Professor Sprout exclaims as we walk into the green house. "You're both _ten_ _minutes_ late! That's a detention for each of you tonight with me."

With another odd look my way, he opens his mouth to respond. "It's my fault Professor. We came to the hall at the same time and I knocked her over so we had to take the time to pick her things up."

"As nice as it was of you to help her Mr. Smith, you're still both late. I'll see you here after dinner," she says firmly. "Now everyone's already paired up so you'll have to work together."

Silently we make our way to the only empty workspace in class. Once he sets our bags down I wrinkle my nose at him. "What was that about?"

"That was me telling her why we were late," he responds simply.

"Yes, but it wasn't your fault," I point out. "You made sure I knew that back in the hallway."

"Okay," he says with a frustrated sigh, "do you want me to be nice to you or mean to you? Make up your mind."

"You're just being weird," I say defensively at his anger.

"You need to pick one," he says, leveling a serious look at me. "I can't go back and forth being nice to you and mean to you whenever it fits in to your schedule. It's not easy for me you know. Two weeks ago you were hollering at me for trying to be nice to you. Ten minutes ago you were hollering at me for being mean to you. Now you're complaining that I'm being nice again. You need to make up your mind."

We fall into silence and begin to work; only speaking when necessary for the day's assigned project. I study him again, unsure as to how to respond. Before he was obnoxious, he always showed up and was constantly on my nerves. Now he's cruel and nasty, he only shows up half as often, but he's on my nerves twice as much. Then there was earlier. He was nice all right. It was just kind of a _creepy_ nice. It's not what's familiar and it's not what's expected. And what was with all the looks he was giving me? And he carried my bag and walked me to class. I can't forget that. He was almost, dare I think it, a gentleman. How very peculiar.

When class is dismissed I quickly grab my bag and leave. I have a free period now, then another class with him. I rush to my common room. I need to think about this. Which Zacharias Smith do I prefer?

* * *

I'm taking my time at dinner now; I'm in no rush to serve a detention, especially with Smith. Last block I sat as far away from him as possible. I did notice he would look at me every so often, but I made sure not to get caught looking his way. Unfortunately, I can't put detention off forever so I make my way back out to the green houses for a second time today. He follows me almost instantly, but keeps a fair distance between us.

"Good you're not late this time," Professor Sprout greets us. "It won't be a hard detention for you today. I've some plants in need of emergency tending so I need you two to grade some first and second year papers for me. They were very simple question and answer style assignments. Once they're completed you are dismissed." She sets us up – at the same desk – and we get to work, both silent until we're alone in the room.

"You've been avoiding me." It's not a question, but I nod anyway. "What's your choice then? You want me to continue on as I have been the last few weeks?"

"No," I say slowly, "but I don't want you to be how you were before either."

"Well then how do you propose I act?"

"The way you did earlier today."

"How is that any different than before?" he asks confused.

"You were a gentleman today."

"I've always been a gentleman," he says, sounding offended.

"No, you haven't," I explain. "You've preached about manners, but you didn't show many. Today however, you did."

"I was always polite to you."

"Being polite to me would entitle you to be polite to my friends as well. You were always rude to them. If you're going to continue on like that you might as well not talk to me."

"Can you blame me for being rude to them?" he defends. "They aren't nice to me ever."

"I wasn't nice to you."

"You're different," he shrugs.

"How am I different?"

"Look, if I'm nice to you, and polite to your friends, will you be nice back for once?"

"If you can manage not to be rude, then yes, I can be nice if you can be nice."

"Glad to have reached an agreement," he smiles. I'm unnerved to fine that it is a rather charming smile this time.

We grade papers in relative silence the rest of the night, only really talking to ask questions about the papers. The quicker we grade these the sooner detention is over. Luckily first and second year Herbology is incredibly easy. We finish quickly and get up to leave when a thought occurrs to me.

"You never answered my question," I point out.

"Which question?"

"How am I different?"

"Do you think I might not have answered for a reason?"

"Yes. I'd like to know either way though. How am I different?" He doesn't answer right away. Instead he heads for the door, turning to respond right before he passes through it.

"You're prettier than they are." He quickly exits through the door and leaves me a bit stunned. Did he really just say that? Before I know it I'm running out the door after him.

"Smith!" I call after him.

He's practically running to get away from me. When he doesn't respond I chase him. We must look rather silly. I run as fast as I can, thankful I exercise and stay in shape for Quidditch. I catch up to him and grab his arm, spinning him to face me.

"Yes?" he asks casually, like I had not just had to chase him down.

"Did you just call me pretty?" I ask a touch breathless.

"Yes," he says gaining more of the familiar, superior tone I'm used to.

"Thank you." I smile and walk past him.

"Wait," he cries. "That's _it_?"

"What else were you expecting?" I blink.

"I don't know," he says honestly, "but you chased me down just to say thank you?"

"I'm not sure. I hadn't meant to, I just started running."

"Oh…okay then." This time, we both start to walk. We separate at the stairs – his common room is down and mine is up.

"Wait!" I call this time. He quickly turns around and almost trips on the few steps he's already taken. "I…you are devastatingly handsome," I say with a blush before turning and sprint up the stairs. How did this turn into an ever changing game of cat and mouse?

"Ginny!"

There is no way I'm stopping. I don't want to know where this will lead. I only said that because he had said something nice about me. I mean, I meant it of course, but I normally would not have just blurted such a fact out. I hit the first landing and turn right, cursing that my common room is still six floors higher. I hear his footsteps behind me and try to run faster. Apparently he hadn't been running at his full potential earlier because he's gaining on me fast.

"Just wait one second Ginny!" he hollers, grabbing my hand and effectively stopping me. I stumble a few steps and he tightens his hold to make sure I don't fall.

"What Smith?" I pant.

"Did you just call me handsome?" he asks, mimicking my question from earlier. His hand is still grasping mine.

"Yes," I say, also mimicking earlier.

"Why'd you run?"

"Why'd you run when you called me pretty?" I counter.

"I thought you'd hex me," he answers with a shrug.

"Oh," I say lamely. "I think I can take a compliment a little better than that."

"Yes, but from me?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, we did just decide we'd be nice to each other."

"I've always decided to be nice to you. You're the one who wasn't nice."

"That's neither here nor there," I say dismissively. "We're trying to be nice to each other now so it wouldn't really be appropriate to hex you for a compliment."

"Good logic," he says, seemingly thinking something over in his head. Before I really know what's happening he's pressing his lips to mine. It was so quick, however, that I never got a chance to respond either way. I'm thankful our hands are still together in case he decides to run. That's not the case however. He actually looks rather smug.

"What was that for?" I ask feeling thoroughly bewildered with this new turn of events. How did we get from arguing this morning to a kiss in the hall that same evening?

"I thought it'd be a nice thing to do," he smirks. Was it a nice thing? It was so quick I couldn't really tell.

"Would you let me try something?"

He nods warily and I push up on my tiptoes and kiss him again, this time analyzing. He doesn't react at first; seemingly surprised that's what I had in mind. Once he's over the surprise he releases my hand and his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into him. I leave my hands resting on his chest, still experimenting with the kiss. I hesitantly run my tongue out over his lips. I want to make sure this is, with out a doubt, a nice thing to do before I decide.

Oh, whom am I kidding? I just want to kiss the bloody kid. He is handsome and I think he could be quite charming if he actually stops being rude to my friends. My mind quickly asks once again how we got to this point. That thought changes, though, as I feel his tongue connecting with mine. When we finally break apart he grins broadly, his face showing pure contentment. I'm sure my face is the same. He still has his arms around my waist as we gasp for the air we lost kissing and running.

"Definitely a nice thing to do," I agree with a nod.

"I thought so," he says smugly.

* * *

"Oh great," Seamus groans across the table from me.

"What's wrong?" I ask concerned, looking up at him from my breakfast.

"Smith's coming." I grin, seeing no problem in that. He walks up and sits down next to me. Coldly, Seamus asks, "Can we help you with something Smith?"

"No thank you. You wouldn't be much help." Not exactly the nicest thing, but it certainly wasn't the rudest either. He turns to stare at me. "Ginny here could help me with something though."

"What? Feel the need to get her another detention?" Neville asks bitterly. He takes it personal when someone gets his friends in trouble.

"No," he says simply, still looking at me.

"Then maybe you should leave," Seamus tries again, fake politeness lacing his voice.

"I believe I was invited to sit here."

"Who would invite you?" Dean puts in this time, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"I would," I say causing each of their heads to turn towards me.

"What are you talking about Ginny?" Neville asks slowly.

"After detention I asked him to sit with me at breakfast," I explain.

"Why?"

"Oh, just thought it'd be a nice thing to do," I smirk.

"And since when are we doing nice things for him?" Dean pressed.

"Since last night of course," I answer as if it should be obvious, looking over to Zacharias with a smile.

"Wh-what was last night?" Seamus asks, clearly not sure he really wants to know the answer.

"We've just, let's say, come to an agreement," Zacharias smirks.

"Ginny, please don't tell me this means what I think it means," Neville says.

"Do you think it means that Zacharias and I are dating?"

"Yes."

"Well then no, it doesn't mean that."

"What's it mean then?" Seamus treads.

"That he's a brilliant kisser," I smirk.

"_Ginny_!" Dean, Seamus and Neville whine in unison.

"Yes?" I ask sweetly.

"Why?"

"I thought I just said; he's rather brilliant at kissing."

"You're not so bad your self Ginny," Zacharias grins.

"Thank you Zach," I grin back.

"About that dating thing though," Zacharias starts to say. I simply raise an eyebrow so he continues. "Want to give it a try?"

"Please don't Ginny," Neville pleads.

"Sorry guys," I say, not sorry one bit. "It would be a nice thing to do."

* * *

**A/N:** Let me know what you think? Zacharias is a character I'm still experimenting with how to write. Thanks for reading!


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